The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 23, 1891 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, December 23, 1891
Page 3
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THE UPPER DES MOINES, ALGONA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1891. lOVE'S VICTORY. BKBTHA M. CLAT. CHAPTER XIV. 'WEES X'StLE AND NIECE. •* A'few dftyS later the trmquility of Darreil (Sotirt WaS at an end. The invited guests ^ere expected, and Sir Oswald had deter- mlhed to do them all honor. The state- apartments, which had not been used during his tenure, were Wl tin-own open; the superb 'balltoom, once the pride of the county, was redecorated! the long, empty corridors and suites of apartments reserved for visitors, Weitt 6hce more full of life. Miss Hastings Was.tho presiding genius; Pauline Darrell ,toofe far less interest in the preparations. r ''1 am glad," she said one morning, "that 1 am to see your 'world,' Sir Oswald. You despise mine; I shall be anxious to see what yours Is like." The.batonet answered her testily: "I do n'ot quite understand .your remarks about'worlds.' Surely wo live under the same conditions.'" "Not in the same world of people," she opposed; "and I am anxious to see what yours Is like." "What do you expect to find in what you fcre pleased to call my world, Pauline?" he asked, angrily. "Little truth, and plenty of affectation; little honor, and plenty of polish; little honesty," and very high, sounding words; little sincerity, arid plenty of deceit." "By what right do you sit In judgment?" he demanded. "None at all," replied Pauline; "but as people aro always speaking ill of the dear, honest world in which 1 have lived, I may surely be permitted to criticise tho world that Is outside it.;' $jlr Oswald turned away angrily; and Miss Kasdliigs sighed over tno girl's willfulness. •l?Wxthy do you talk to Sir Oswald In a fash- Ion that always irritates him?" she remon- ^'Wo live In a free country, and have each i freedom of speech." fl am afraid the clay will come when you ?11 pay'a sad-.price for yours." r .But Pauline Darrell only laughed. Such / .'re never affected her; sho would sooner . / fe expected to see tho heavens fall at her > / -Jt than that Sir Oswald should not leave *' 'Darrell Court to -her—his niece, a Darroll, -with, the Darrell face and the Darrell figure, the true, proud features of the race. He •would never dare to do otherwise, she thought, and sho would not condescend to change either her thought or speech to please him. "The Darrells do not know fear," she •would say; "there never yet was an example of a Darrell being frightened into anything." So the breach between the uncle and the niece grew wider every day. He could not understand her; the grand, untrained, undis- • •ciplined, poetical nature was beyond him— he could neither reach it heights, nor fathom its depths. There were times when he thought •,' that, despite her outward coldness and pride, there was within a soul of lire, when he dimly understood the magnificence of the character .lie could not rend, when lie suspected there might bo some souls that could not be narrowed or forced into a common groove. Nevertheless lie feared her; he was afraid to trust, not the honor, but tho fame of his race to her. "She is capable of anything," he would repeat to himself again and again. "She would fling the Darrell revenues to the wind; she wpuld transform Darrell Court into one huge "^O^vatory, if astronomy pleased her—into •fon/lmge laboratory, if she gave herself to chemistry. One thing is perfectly clear to me^r-she can never be my heiress until she is safely married." And, after great deliberation—after listen| Ing to all his heart's pleading in favor of her grace, her beauty, her royal generosity of character, the claim of h:,-r name and her truth, he came to the decision that if she ' 70uld marry Captain Langton, whom he (Wed perhaps better than any one else in the 4V>pd, he would at once make his will, adopt •^fiei; and leave her heiress of all that he had In the world. One morning tho captain confided in him, telling him how dearly he loved his beautiful niece, and then Sir Oswald revealed his intentions. "You understand, Aubrey," he said—"the girl is magnificently beautiful—she is a true Darrell; but 1 am frightened about her. She is not like other girls; sho is wanting in tact, In knowledge of the world, and both are essential. I hope you will win her. I shall die content if I leave Darrell Court in your hands, and if you are her husband. I could not pass her over to make her my heir; but If you can persuade her to marry you, you can take the name of Dan-ell, and you can guide and direct her. What do you say, Aubrey?" "What do I say? 1 ' stammered the captain. "I say this—that I love her so dearly that 1 would marry her if sho had not a farthing. I love her so that language cannot express the depth of my affection for her." The captain was,for a few minutes quite overcome—lie had been so long dunned for ynoncy, so hardly pressed, so desperate, that \e chance of twenty thousand a year and 'arreU.Court was almost too much for him. ffs brow grew damp, and his lips pale. All (njgjjt; : JJ31 his own if lie could but win ibnseht of this girl. Yet he feared her; _. > proud, noble face, the grand, dark eyes 1 rose 1 before him, and seemed to rebuke him for his presumptuous hope. How Was he to win her? Flattery, sweet, soft words would neverdo it. One scornful look from her sent his Ideas "flying right and left." "If she were only like other girls," he thought, "I could make her my wife in a few weeks." Then he took heart of grace. Had he not been celebrated for his good fortune among the fair sex? Had he not always found his handsome person, his low, tender voice, his pleasing manner irresistible? Who was this proud, dark-eyed girl that she should measure the depths of his heart and soul, and find them wanting? Surely he must be superior to the artists In shabby coats by whom she had been surrounded. And yet ho feared as much as he hoped. "She has such a-way of making me feel small," he said to himself; "and if that kind of feeling comes over me when I am making her an offer, it will be of no use to plead my suit." ' But what a prospect—master of Darrell Court and twenty thousand per annum 1 He would endure almost any humiliation to obtain that position. *'She must have me," he said to himself— ''she shall have me I I will force her to be wife I" Why, if he could but announce his engagement to Miss Da irell, lie could borrow as jnuch money as M >uld clear oft' all his liabili- v tles! And how | juch he needed money no i knew better Irian himself. He had paid 'this visit to the Court because there were two writs out against him in London, and, unless he could come to some settlement of them, he knew what awaited him. A all—fortune, happiness, wealth, freedom, ''prosperity—depended on one word from tho proud lips that had hardly ever spoken kindly to him. He loved her, too- loved her with a fiercL-, desperate love that at times Jriehtened himself. "I should like you," said Sir Oswald, at the conclusion of their interview, "to have the matter settled as soon as yon can; because, I tell yon, frankly, If my niece does not consent to marry you, 1 shall marry myself. All my friends are eagerly solicitous for me to do so; they do not like the prospect of seeing a grand old Inheritance like this fall Into the hands of a willful, capricious girl. But I tell you in confidence, Aubrey, 1 do not wish to marry. I am a confirmed old bachelor now, and it would be a sad trouble to me to have my life changed by marriage. Still I Would rather marry than that harm should come to Darrell Court" "Certainly," agreed the captain. "I do not mind telling you still further that I have seen a lady Whom, if 1 marry at all* I should like to make my wife—in fact, she resembles some one 1 used to know long years ago. I have every reason to believe she is much admired and sought after; so that I want you to settle your affairs as speedily as possible. Mind, Aubrej', they must be settled—there must be no deferring, no putting Off; you must have an answer—yes or no— very shortly; and yon must not lose an hour In communicating that answer to me." "I hope it wilf be a favorable one," said Aubrey Lanuton; but his mind misgave him. lie had an idea that the girl had found him wanting; he could not forget her first frank declaration that she did not like him. "If she refuses mo, have 1 your permission to tell Miss Darrell the alternative?" ho asked of Sir Oswald. The baronet thought deeply for some minutes, and then said,— "Yes; it is only fair and just that sho should know it—that she should learn that if she refuses you she loses all chance of being my heiress. But do not say anything of tho lady I have mentioned." Tho visitors were coming on Tuesday, and Thursday was the day settled for tho bull. "All girls like balls," thought Captain Langton. "Paulino is sure to be in a good temper then, and I will ask her on Thursday night." But ho owned to himself that ho would rather a thousand times have faced a whole battalion of enemies than ask Paulino Darrell to bo his wife. CTIAVTKll XY. THE QUKKN OF THK HALL, It was many years since Darrell Court had been so guy. Sir Oswald had resolved that the ball should be one that should reflect credit on tho giver and the guests, fie had ordered a fine baud of music and a magnificent banquet. The grounds were to bo illuminated, colored lamps being placed among tho trees; the ballroom was a gorgeous mass of brilliant bloom—tier after tier of magnificent flowers was ranged along tho walls, white statues gleaming from the bright foliage, and little fountains here and there sending up their fragrant spray. Sir Oswald had sent to London for some one to superintend the decorations; but they were not perfected until Miss Darrell, passing throuirh, suggested first one alteration, and then another, until the originators, recognizing her superior artistic judgment and picturesque taste, deferred to her, and then tho decorations became a magnificent work of art. Sir Oswald declared himself delighted, and the captain's praises were unmeasured. Then, and then only, Miss Darriill began to feel some Interest in the ball; her love of beauty was awakened and pleased—there was something more in the event than the mere gratification of seeing people dance. The expected visitors had arrived on the Tuesday—Lady Hampton, radiant with expected victory; Elinor, silent, thoughtful, and more gentle than ever, and consequently more pleasing:. Lady Hamilton was delighted with the idea of the ball. "You must make a bold stroke for a husband on that evening, Elinor," she said. "You shall have ti superb dress, and I shall quite expect you to receive and accept an offer from Sir Oswald." Elinor lloelici'ord raised -her eyes. There was something wistful in their expression. "Oh, aunt," she said, "I like the captain so much better!" Lady Hampton did not lonelier good humor—Elinor was not the first refractory girl slie had brought to her senses. "Nevermind about liking the captain, my dear; that is only natural. He is not in love with you. I can see through tho whole business. If Daw-ell Court goes to Miss Darrell, he will marry her. He can marry no girl without money, because he is, I know, over head and ears in debt. Major Penryn was speaking of him to-day. Tho only way to prevent his marriage with Miss Darrell is for you to take Sir Oswald yourself." Elinor's face flushed. Lady Hamilton certainly understood the art of evoking the worst feelings. Jealousy, envy, and dislike stirred faintly in the gentle heart of her niece. "1 hope you will do your very best to win Sir Oswald's affections," continued Lady Hampton, "for I should not like to see Darrell Court fall into tho hands of that proud girl." "Nor should I," assented Miss Rocheford. The evening of the ball arrived at last, and Lady Hampton stood like a fairy godmother in Elinor's dressing-room, superintending tho toilet that was to work such wonders. Lady Hampton herself looked very imposing in her handsome dress of black velvet and point lace, with diamond ornaments. Elinor's dress was a triumph of art. Her fresh, fair, gentle loveliness shone to perfection, aided by her elaborate costume of white silk and white lace, trimmed with green and silver leaves. Tho ornaments were all of silver—both fringe and leaves; tho head-dress was a green wreath with silver flowers. Nothing could have been more elegant and effective. There was a gentle flush on the fair face and a light in tho blue eyes. "That will do, Elinor," said Lady Hampton, complacently. "Your dress is perfection. I have no fear now—you will have no rival." Perhaps Lady Hampton had never disliked Pauline Darrell more than on that night, for the magnificent beauty of the girl had never been so apparent. Sir Oswald had given his niece carte blandie in respect to preparation for the ball, but sho had not at first taken sufficient interest in the matter to send to London, as he wished, for a dress. Later on she had gone to the large wardrobe, where, the treasures accumulated by the Ladies Darrell lay. Such shining treasures of satin, velvet, silk, cashmere, and such profusion of laces and ornaments were there! She selected a superb costume—a magnificent amber brocade, embroidered with white flowers, gorgeous, beautiful, artistic. It was a dress that had been made for some former Lady Darrell. How well it became her! The amber set off her dark beauty as a golden frame does a rich picture. The dress required but little alteration; it was cut square, showing the white, stately, graceful neck, and tho sleeves hung after the Grecian fashion, leaving the round white arms bare. The light shining upon the dress changed with every movement; it was as though the girl was enveloped in sunbeams. Every lady present envied that dress, and pronounced it to be gorgeous beyond comparison. Pauline's rich curls of dark hair were stud' ded with diamond stars, and a diamond necklace clasped her white throat—this wa$ Sir Oswald's present. Her artistic taste naa found yet fnrther scope; for she had enhanced the beauty of her dress by the addition of white daphnes shrouded In green leaves. f _. . Sir Oswald looked at her In admiration— her magnificent beauty, her queenly figure, her royal grace and ease of movement, her splendid costume, all Impressed him. Prom every fold of her shining dress came a rich, sweet, subtle perfume; her usually pale face had on it an unwonted flush of delicate rose- leaf color. "If she would but belike that-sweet Elinor I" thought Sir Oswald, "I could not wish fora more beautiful mistress for Darrell Court" She stood-by his side while he received his guests, and her dignified ease delighted him. "Had she been -some Eastern queen," he thought, "her eccentricities would have hurt no one. ,As it is-^-" and Sir Oswald concluded his sentence by a grave shake of the head. The captain, pleased with'Miss Kocho- ford's graceful loveliness, had been amusing himself by paying her some very choice compliments, and she was delighted with them. "If Sir Oswald were only like him 1" she thought; and Aubrey Langton, meeting the timid, gentle glance, said to himself that he must be careful—he had no wish to win the girl's heart—he should bo quite at a loss to know what to do with it Wliuii he saw Pauline his courage almost failed him. "How am I to ask that magnificent girl to marry me?" ho said. Sir Oswald had expressed a wish that Aubrey and Pnnlino would open the ball; It would give people an idea o.f what he wished, ho thought, ami prevent other gentlemen from "turning her head" by paying her any marked attention. Yet ho knew how difll- cult it would bo for any one to win Paulino's rofcard. She made no objection when he ex- prcssed his wisli to her, but she did not look particularly pleased. Captain Langton understood the art of dancing better perhaps than the art of war; he was perfect in it—even Paulino avowed it. AVilh him dancing was tho very poetry of motion. Tho flowers, tho lights, tho sweet, soft music, tho fragance, the silvery sound of laughter, the fair faces and shining jewels of the ladles, all stirred and warmed Paulino's imagination; they brought bright and vivid fancies lo her, and touched tho poetical beauty-loving soul. A glow came over her face, a light into her proud, dark eyes, her lips were wreathed in smiles—no one had ever seen Pauline so beautiful before. "You enjoy this, do you not'."' said Aubrey Langton, as ho watched her beautiful face. "I shall do so," sho replied, "very much indeed;" and at what those words Implied the captain's courage fell to zero. He saw how many admiring eyes followed her; he knew that all tho gentlemen In the room were envying him in his position with Miss Darrell. He knew that, pretty as some of the girls were, Pauline outshone them as tho sun outshines tho stars; and he knew that she was queen of the fete— queen of the ball. "This is the first time you have met many of the county people, is it not?" ho asked. Sho looked round Indifferently. "Yes, it is the first time," she replied. "Do you admire any of the men? I know how different your taste is from that of most girls. Is there any one here who has pleased you?" She laughed. "I cannot'tell," sho answered; "you forget this Is tho first dance. 1 have had no opportunity of judging." "I believe that I am jealous already," he observed. She looked at him; her dark eyes made his heart beat, they seemed to look through him. "You aro what?" sho asked. "Captain Langton, I do not understand." Ho dared not repeat the words. "1 wish," he said, with a deep sigh, "that I had all the talent and all tho wealth in tho world." "For what reason?" she inquired. " you would care for mo then." "'Because of your talent and wealth!" sho exclaimed. "No, that I should not." "But 1 thought you admired talent so much," he said, in surprise. "Sol do; but mere talent would never command my respect, nor more wealth." "The two together might," he suggested. "No. You would not understand me, Captain Langton, were I to explain. Now this dance is over, and I heard you emrago Miss Ilochoford for the next." "And you," ho said, gloomily—"what are you going to do?" "To enjoy myself," she replied; and, from tho manner in which her face brightened when ho left her, the captain feared she was pleased to be quite rid of him. CHAPTER XVI. TAULINE'S BRI01HT FANCIES. The ball at Darrell Court was a brilliant success. Sir Oswald was delighted, Lady Hampton complimented him so highly. "This is just as it ought to be, Sir Oswald," she said. "One who can give such entertainments as this should not think of retiring from a world he is so well qualified to adorn. Confess, now, that under tho influence of that music you could dance yourself." Sir Oswald laughed. "1 must plead guilty," ho said. "How beautiful Miss Rocheford looks to-night I" "It is well for yon, Sir Oswald, that you have not heard all the compliments that the dear child has lavished on you; they would have made you vain." Sir Oswald's face brightened with pleasure. "is your niece pleased 1 ? I am very glad indeed. It was more to give her pleasure than from any other motive that I gave the ball." "Then you have succeeded perfectly. Now, Sir Oswald, do you not see that what I said was true—that an establishment like this requires a mistress? Darrell Court always led the hospitalities ot the county. It is only since no lady has lived here that it has fallen into the background," "It shall be in the background no longer," said Sir Oswald. "I think my first ball is a very successful one. How happy everybody looks 1" But of all that brilliant company, Paulino Darrell was queen. There were men present who would have given anything for one smile from her lips. They admired her,tliey thought her beautiful beyond compulsion, but they did not feel quite at ease with her. She was somewhat beyond them; they did not understand her. She did not blush, and glow, 'and smile when they said pretty things to her. When they gave her their most brilliant small-talk, she had nothing to give them in return. A soul quite different from theirs looked at them out of her dark, proud eyes. They said to themselves that she was very beautiful, but that she required softening, and that something lovable and • tender was wanting in her. She was a queen to bo worshiped, an empress to receive all homage, but not a woman to be loved. So they thought who were not even capable of judging such capacity for love as hers. She was also not popular with the ladles. They thought her very superb; they admired her magnificent dress; but they pronounced her proud and reserved. They said sheguve hur.self airs, that she look no pains to make lj-iends: and tliov did not anticipate «ny very great rejoicings when Darrell Court should belong to her. The elder ladies pronounced that judgment on her; tho younger ones shrank abashed, and were slightly timid in her presence. Sir Oswald, it was noticed, led Miss Rocheford in to supper, and seemed to pay her very great attention. Some of the ladies made observations, but others said It was all nonsense; if Sir Oswald had ever Intended to marry, ho would have married years ngo, and his'choice would have fallen on a lady of mature age, not on a slight, slender Rirl. Besides— and who could find an answer to such an argument?— was It not settled that Miss Darrcll was to bo his heiress? There Was no doubt about that. That baronet's great affection for Aubrey Lnngton was also known. Moro than one of (lie guests present guessed at the arrangement made, and said that In all probability Miss Davrell would marry the captain, and that they would have the Court after Sir Oswald's death. The banquet was certainly a mnsnilioent one. The guests did full justice to the costly wines, tho nro and beautiful fruits, tho recherche dishes prepared with so much skill and labor. When supper was ended, tho dancors returned to the ballroom, tint Miss Darrell was already rather weary of it all. She stole away during tho first dance after supper. The lamps were lighted in llu« conservatory, and shed a soft, pearly light over the fragrant flowers; tho iiroal glass doors at the end were open, nnd beyond lay the moonlight, soft, sweet, and silvery, sleeping Hie flowers, the frees, and the long grass in Its mild light. Without, all was so culm, so nfill; there was the evening sky wjlh its myriad stnrs, so culm mid so scrcifi : closo lo flu 1 doors stood great sheaves of while lilies, and just inside was a nest of friigrnnt daph- nes and jessamines. Pauline sloml lost in dcli.uht; the perfume wined Id float In from tho moonlight, and infold her. This quiet, holy, tranquil bounty touched her heart as Ihe splemlorof the, ballroom could not ; her soul grew calm and still; she seemed nearer happiness tlnui she had ever been before. "How beautiful the world Is 1" she thought. Sho raised her face, so serenely placid and fair in the moonlight; the silver radiance fell upon II, adding all that was needed lo make it perfect, a blended softness and tenderness. The gorgeous, golden-lined dress falling iironnd her, ulistenrd, srlenmeil, nnd glowed; her diamonds shone like II lines. No iirlisl i-ver dreamed of a fuiroi pie.ltnv than 1'iis Klrl in tho midst of the moonlight, mul the flowers. Bright fancies thronged her mind. She thought of the time when she should be mis- Iress of that rich domain. Nn mercenary delight made her heart thrill; it was not the prospect of being rich fhat delighted her; it was :i nobler pride— delight, in Ihe grand old homo where heroes had lived and died, earnest thoughts of how she would care for It, how she would love it as some living thing when it should be her own. Her own! Verily her lines were east, in pleasant places! She dreamed great things —of the worthy deeds she would do, of tin 1 noble charities she would carry out, the magnificent designs she would brim; to maturity when D.-.rrull. Court should be hers. (To be continued.) THE Orenin Cookies. One tea cup of sour cream, one of sugar and a toaspoonful of soda, season with nutmeg, mix soft rcll thin, and bake in a hot oven. Crnnberry Jelly. Wash one quart of cranberries and put them in a stewpan with one pint of sugar and one cupful of water. Cook tnem carefully for fifteen minutes; then strain and press through a sieve/. Beat tho strained cranberry until smo 3th, and pour into a smooth, and pour into a mold that has been rinsed with cold water. Set in a cold place to harden. linked Apple Duiupllngi. Select tart apples of medium size, peel and core. Mako crust as for nice tea biscuit, roll out in succession piece after pieca large enough to inclose an apple; pinch the corners closely together, and lay in a greased pan set in the oven, Bake, not too fast, until the apple is soft. To bo eaten hot with butter and sugar rubbed together and flavored to taste; or with a hot sauce if preferrsd. Sandwich dike. Mix three eggs well beaten with a quarter of a pound of butter, an ounce and a half of castor-sugar, half a pound of flour, and a little milk. Beat the whole for ten minutes. Butter four pudding-plates, and pour ttie mixture, equally divided, upon them. Bake aoout half an hour. Spread three sandwiches with raspberry jam, and lay one on the top of another. Sift pounded loaf sugar over the top one, which is not spread with jam, and divide in eighths from top to bottom before serving. niinoe Aleut. One and one-half pounds of meat—after it is boiled—chopped fine, one and one- half pounds of suet chopped fine, three pounds of chopped apple, one pound of sugar, one cup of moladsess, one quart of boiled cider, one tablespoonful each of mace, al'spice, cinnamon, and one-half tablfespoonful of cloves, a scant quarter of a cup of salt, one nutmeg, one and one- half pounds of raisins seeded, and and and one and one-half pounds of currants. Cook slowly until the apple is done; then add the juice and grated rind of one lemon and one-half pound of citron cut fine. One Way to Itoaat a Turkey. I was among the first to enter tho new city of Chandler, Oklahoma, writes an Oklahoma man—not as a boomer, but as • a boomer's caterer, a vocation which I c"e- cidedly prefer. Business was marvelously brisk while I was there, and so far aa booking orders and taking in money were concerned I did well. The best we had was off a wild turkey secured in some inexplicable manner. There were no cooking utensils or appliances handy, but an old pioneer who had been through th« mill before offered to prepare the meal if allowed to share in it. His offer v. r as accepted, and his efforts were watched with much incredulity aad very litlh hope. He simply rolled the bird, feathers and all, in mud until it was caked completely. Then he roasted the queer looking concern over a wood fire, and when he thought it was done tore off the baked mud un 1 clay. Feathers and skin came off with the covering, leaving a not very inviting skinless but well-browned bird. The b> otner h ul timed the operation to a nicety, the turkey was cooked lo a turn, and though it wa< of uncertain age, was fairly leader aad delicious in flavor. Even making a'low- auce for the sweet sauce hunger is admitted to be, it is only common fairness 10 describe that meal as a success, and I h we eaten many a worse cooked and toucher is a firbt-class restaurant. FARM AND HOME. ODE TO TltTTY. wootisvf onfii. Storn daughter of th<> votco of God! 0 Duty! If that name thon love Who nrtn lls-ht to ciil c, n roil To check OIP errlne, nmi reprove; Thon, who art victory nnrt Inw \Vh<Mi empty terrors ovorawo; From vnln temptations dost set free; And calm'st the weary strife of frail Immunity I There nro who ask not If thin,* eye Be on them; who, In love nml truth, Where no misgiving I?, rely Upon the genial eunso of youth; Glnrt hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work and Know It not; Long may the kindly Impnlne Instl Bill tltoti, If they should totter, teach them to stand fasti Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature bo, When love Is an unerring light Ami joy Its own security. And then a bilcafnl course may hold liven now, who, not unwisely bold, Live In the spirit of this creed; Yet flnd that other strength, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random H»«t, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust; And oft, when In my heart was heard Thy timely mandate!, 1 deferred The tnsk, In smoother walks tostrayj Hut thoe [ now would servo more Strictly, It I may. Through no disturbance of my soul Ur strong compunction In me wrought, I supplicate la: Hi}'control; But In the quietness of thought Mo (his unchni'lt'rvd freedom tires; 1 feol the weight of chance-desires; Jty hopes no more must change their name, 1 long for a repose that ever Is the same. Stern Lawgiver! Yet thon dosl wear The (lodhead'x moat hcuigmvnt grace; Nor know wo anything HO fair As Is the smile upon thy face; Flowers laugh before then on their beds; And fragrance In thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, And the most ancient heavens, through thee, aro fresh anil strong. To humbler functions, awful Power I I call thco: 1 myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour: Oh, let my weakness have an end I Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of »olf-sacr!llce; The conlldeuce or reason give; And In Ih« light ot irtitn thy boailumu lot mo live. 1TA11M NOTES. Pino ground bone used us a fertilizer is worth twice aa much as is the coarse ground bone. What hosts of dry cows, or nearly dry, will bo wintered at groat expense bocauno they are not bred right to give milk ton months out of twelve. Barn collars are much warmer if properly provided with doors in front. It is better to build them in two sections, so that the top hulf can bo opened separately. It pays to have a garden, a small fruit orchard and some poultry, if for no other reason than to huvo a convenient supply of good and wholesome food. These things help to ranke life on the farm much more satisfactory than to be without them. t I'rimllltf Itufofo I'liliitluj;. If you transplant any trees in the spring, take the precaution to prune the branches so as to restore the rest destroyed by the root mutilations that are always inseparable from removals, and then mulch so as to retain moisture until the now rootlets can get a good stare. Many trees are lost by neglecting the proper cutting back, thus leaving too much work for the crippled roots to accomplish. Sl/.n of Farm Products. Largo articles not only sell bettor than those of smaller size, but less laborer is required to harvest tlipin. It is much ouuier to dig two bushels ol largo potatoes Ihan to dig one bushel of smaller ones. The farmer should aim to secure as many bushels of any one article as possible, and nothing cotributo3 to this more than largo size, while the cost of production will also be proportionately lessoned. It will require many years for a farmer to improve his stock by selecting the best every year, but it requires only a single sensou to improve the. Block when the puru- bred males are used. The purn breeds aro simply the result of careful selection of the best for years, or perhaps a century, and it ia a loss of time for a farmer to attempt to do that which requires his lifn-timo, when ho can make a short cut to improvement b> taking advantage of the work performed by others before him. Impiovetnent coats but little when pure-bred males are resorted to. Mixing Fortlll/orH. The manure of thirty fowls in one year, mixed with four times its bulk of ewamp muck, is more valuable than three hundred founds of guano. The advantage of this method of mixing is that the work is done easily and effectually, If the droppings are suffered to accumulate, they become hard and compact. If applied to land without mixture with other substance, they burn and kill plants, and aUo prevent seeds from germinating. Besides, the compost crumbles readily, ia easily mixed with the soil, or applied in the drills before planting. This fertilizer is very quickly assimilated oy growing plants . Its influence begins immediately. _ limit for Vawl*. A mess of bran is alwys beneiicial. Bran contains more phoeephates and 'mineral matter than ground grain and it also assists in regulating the bowels, especially when a small quantity of linseed meal JH given with it, but in the summer season a mess three times a week tnay be allowed only. It may be fed by scalding it and feeding it in a trougn, or it may be sprin'iTed over potatoes or turnips, cooked, No other grain food need be given if bran be uutd in the summer season, if the fowls have a range. In fact, no grain is necessary at all j but should such food be given, let it be bran. Cause of Hard Time*. '"Taint no y/onder some folks think 'nd talk ez farm in 1 don't pay," remarked a tiller of thj soil. He was an unlettered man, in blue overalls, but he looked to have good, common sunse. ''There's Stubbs, my next neighbor, he went on, "he wastes a good strip of ground round every field 'en use it ain't handy to git at it with machinery 'ud he's top shiftless to cultivate and gather it by band. Why the very richest part o' HOIUO o' ray fields is jeot this same waste strip. He s jest that way 'bsut everything, Stubbs is. He won't work stormy or cold days, be don't care of what he has, 'ad complains all the while about hard times. In my opinion we formers mostly make our own times." A Milch Cow on Bitty. In order to obtain protnine enough to enable her to Ho her duty n large milch cow would be forced to eat nboutSO pounds of good timothy hay nor day, or nearly 100 pounds of corn fodder, or 150 pounds of ensilage, or nenrly 400 pounds of oak straw. Sin? could obtain the needed quantity in 12 vounda of pea meal, 9 pounds ot linseed meal, 7 pound* of cottonseed meal 20 iKiunda of wheat bmn. Timothy hav costs us this winter just one cent pet pound, while linseed meal is worth one and one-half cents. The timothy ration would cost 80 cents, while the linseedmeal would cost 13f£ cents. A cow's time is worth noUiinsr, but still she cannot afford to aoencl the hours required to chew and digest 80 pounds of timothy Imy. Neither can sho live on the linsred meal ration without something jo add bulk to the food nna thus keep her digestive organs in condition. In "combination" there ia strength—and profit. Forty-five pounds of clover hay will supply more digestible protoino that 80 pounds of timothy. We know dairymen near the large cities who can sell timothy hay ut one cent a pound and buy good clover ut three-fourths of a cent. Under mich circumstances when they food their timothy they feed it at a loss of more than onn-fourth of a cent for every pound they handle, which is a mighty big price to pay for the fun of "doing as fnthor tliil. l< -Ruiiil New Yorker. T1IKHOU.SRI.IOM). 11 or I,I To. AMKUICAN MACIAKINR. She llvi'd mid Inhered midst tho lowllont things, Walked nl my side mill Inlkoil, mid oft did Tho Radons hours llmt friendly twllljjht brings With toll, naught. (]iiOBtlonltiK If good or 111 \\ ore hers; soft lullabies e\\o crooned nt ore, Ukn popples' Uroiith fulling down tenderly On Infiint eyelids that guy snort would leave I o nestle close and sloop upon hor knot). Her life WIIH colorless niul commonplace, ^ Devoid of poetry—I thought It BO, I'or 1 wild blind, and could not see tno grace Tliat grow through common duties; now 1 know Sinco sho Is gone from mo and nil hor cnro», I entertained un angel unnwnroi, Imitation virtues never wear well. It don't take a bit of heroism to bo a grumbler. Life is thrown away when it is not a life of love. Patience is tho gold wo get by going through tho fire of trial. ThoBO who have a will to learn find the world full of teachers. Tho more wo do to help others the lighter our own burdens will become. Tho only way to make people happy is to flrbt make them good. It always tnakos a trouble smaller to toll it to a friend you believe in. What Homo men lack in courage they try to make up in noise and bluster. People who blow their own horns do not always furnish good music for other people, Tho thing that really kills a groat many people is laziness, though the doctors generally manage to find a more respectable mune for it People who live in tho dark never have any trouble in proving to their own satisfaction that there ia no sunlight. Nothing Moro Cruel. Man's selfishness is one of the cruelost and most criiHhinu' forces operating on the arena of human effort and struggle We all assent to that statement, but forget that in subtle forms-Unit very selfishness streams forth from our own lives.—Michigan Advocate. Truthful Though til. When wo feol tho narrowness of those lives of ours, ouch in its own small circle, wo aro condoled by knowing that every star must move within its limits, though space bo around it. The rich are only enviable in one attribute—their power to help tho poor. It is only in looking on death that we comprehend immortality, and only utter weariness gives piomiso of perfect rest. Our bodies live in houses, because our souls live in bodies. Wisdom, like many other human attributes is only for tho time. Wo ore wise to-day, that to-morrow we may look buck and say, "How foolish we were!" Tho Art Info Chisel, Look at the nrtist's chisel. The artist cannot carve without it. Yet imagine tho chisel, couscioui; that it was made to carve, and that it is its funtion, trying to carve alone, It lays itself uguinst the hard marble, but it has neither strength nor skill. Then we can imagine the chisel full of disappointment. "Why cannot I carve?' 1 it cries. Then the artist comes anil seizes it. Tho chisel lays itself into his hand and is obedient to him. That obedience is faith. It opens the channels between tho sculptor's brain and the hard steel. Thought, feeling, imagination, skill, flow down from the deep chambers of tho artist's soul to tho chisel's edge. The sculptor and the chisel are not two, but one. It is the unit which they make that carves the stone. We ore but tho chisel to carve God'a statues in this world. Unquestionably wo must dp the work. But the human worker is only the chisel of the great Art- , ist. The artist needs his chisel. But the chisel can do nothing, produce no beauty of itself. The lutist must seize it, and the' chisel must lay itself into his hand and be obedient to him. We must yield ourselves . together to Christ and let him use us. Then his power, his wisdom, his skill, his thought, his IOVH, shall flow through our soul, our bruin, our, heart, our lingers. That is working by faith. — Phillips Brooks. Gaud Advice. To use this terse and homely phrase, my friend, let us mind our own business. There is enough to decide in our lives; let us be unmindful of the affairs of others, except in so far as we can be helpful and of real benefit. Let us be charitable in all our conclusions, mindful of the fact that we so often need the cloa.k of charity ourselves. As we would wish to be judged,. so let us judge others—always with a kindly spirit, even with a belief in the better part of self. Strew a' flower where others throw a stone. Fill your life so full of (sunshine that evil reports will find no place where you are. Stop petty scandals fay some pretty story of womanly kindness.' Make your life a bright spot in this world and where you see a frow» there throw a smile, and whether it he morn, dusk or night, let the sunny side of your nature always be at full meridian,—Selected.

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